Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do

[coffeegoeshere]

Skitters of a dozen green branches, the Florida breeze rattles in my dozing ears. So as the sun goes down we are a tiny city of a few thousand porch-sitters, slowly lifting our cans of beer, slowly watching the time slip through our fingers. By the thousands, we finish what we opened; all at once we turn the doorknobs to our apartments, slide under

Comments

[greatmistakes]

yes.